


Honeyed Veins

by Trash_For_Ships



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Always brush your teeth before and after mating bites, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, It has nothing to do with this story other than similar themes but it SLAPS, M/M, Mating Bites, Me? Messing with alien and vampire biology for my own ends? You know it babey, Moronsexual Zim, Otherwise you get alien rabies, Vampirism, You should all go listen to Sweet Bod by Lemon Demon right now, the Bee Vampire content that we didn’t get from canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_For_Ships/pseuds/Trash_For_Ships
Summary: Struck once again with Bee Vamprisim, Dib finds out something surprising about Zim.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151





	Honeyed Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for Zadr week but I didn’t get it finished in time, and I finally decided I was going to clean this up and post it. Happy quarantine! It’s been good for lazing around and possibly getting back into this ship lol

Dib hadn’t really been expecting the bite. He’d tensed a little when he felt a sharp little pain on his shoulder, swatted at the air halfheartedly, knowing that with his luck, whatever bit him was probably already long gone. It wasn’t until he’d taken a _very_ close look in the bathroom mirror that he groaned aloud and frowned at the two tiny little bite marks on his shoulder. Dib pulled the collar of his shirt back up and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Not the damn vampire bees again, he’d just gotten over the last waves of the sugar-driven vampirism a few weeks ago and he was _not_ looking forward to another ride on this stupid, gothic-insect-villian merry-go-round. 

Sighing to himself, Dib left the bathroom and went to go check on his stash of honey sticks. They were one of the few things that quelled his thirst (hunger?) for sugary things, and did so quickly and cheaply. He’d been lucky to find them at the local mega-mart, three little two ounce sticks for a dollar. The last time he’d stocked up had been a while ago, so Dib stuck a twenty in his pocket, threw on his shoes and left to get more, already thinking about what other confections he could find, even if they weren’t as good as his beloved honey sticks.

And thank whatever was out there that the vampirism only lasted a few weeks, a month at most. Dib had been bitten so many times in his teenage years that he’d developed something of an immunity, and the bouts were beginning to get shorter and shorter. He’d started keeping records sometime around age 13, when the sugar-driven insomnia and compulsive wiggling of his canine teeth with his tongue would drive him crazy for close to two months until his body could fight off whatever virus was actually transmitted when he was bitten. Now that he was an 18 year-old and in his senior year of Hi-Skool, Dib could usually pinpoint a 28 day cycle post-infection, and then everything would be back to normal. If anything these days, it was an excuse to keep eating as much honey as he wanted, and to keep threatening Gaz with bee-vampirism if she didn’t do her share of the chores. 

Which was why when Dib looked in the front pocket of his backpack during class the next day and saw that his honey sticks were nowhere to be found, he blinked for a moment and then looked over at Zim - because of course it was Zim, it was always Zim - and saw him obnoxiously sucking down the last of a honey stick. The residue had an orangish tint on Zim’s gloves and teeth, and Dib scowled at Zim, who gleefully stuck his tongue back out at Dib, once he made sure the teacher wasn’t looking. 

The orange ones were peach-flavored, Dib’s favorite. That had been the last peach one in his backpack stash and he had been looking forward to it, and now Zim had eaten the _entire_ _thing_ , including the little plastic tube it came in. 

Dib couldn’t help the way that his fangs popped, either from the light scent of honey now pervading the room or from the very thought of the stolen treat. He sullenly pulled his lips back down over his fangs, used to the way that his cheeks would bulge out over the extra teeth crammed into his maw. He still ended up cutting the inside of his cheek though, the coppery taste of his own blood almost made him gag. It usually happened a couple times per infection, but it was always a welcome reminder that no matter what the other side effects were, Dib had never drank human blood - it just wasn’t sweet enough, too much iron for the virus’ tastes.

He followed Zim home, still fuming to himself about the stolen honey sticks, still pressing the tip of his tongue against the dulled point of his right canine, watching, waiting for the right moment to rush forward and knock that stupid wig off Zim’s head and get into one of their regularly scheduled dust-ups. He’d been missing it, recently - He’d been avoiding Zim after the bite, he usually did, or he’d just end up raiding Zim’s fridge instead of actually fighting him once the sugar-cravings took over. And then Zim would get riled up over the fact that Dib was stealing _his_ Irken-made snacks instead of eating his stupid, inferior Earth junk and _then_ Zim would launch himself at Dib to steal his sweets back and it would descend back into good-natured hair-pulling, name-calling chaos from there.

Which was how, Dib supposed, that they always ended up like this - Dib following Zim up the front steps of his candy-colored house, wrenching open the door that Zim had slammed in his face, slamming it shut behind him as he stalked inside.

Gir was nowhere to be found, which was all the better, because Dib had every intention of throwing Zim through the TV again.

  
  
Wasn’t this a bit disproportionate for a few honey sticks? Any sane person would likely say yes, it was- but Dib wasn’t all that sane to begin with, and the vampirism only served to intensify his urge to act impulsively and take revenge for his stolen sweets. Maybe if he was lucky, Zim hadn’t eaten all of them, and if he had, well, Dib could always make him puke them back up.

_Where the hell did that come from?_ Dib wondered to himself, momentarily startled by where his train of thought had taken him. He stopped strangling Zim long enough to look concerned for how the virus was infecting his mind, which was plenty of opportunity for Zim to kick up and slam his little heeled boot into Dib’s jaw and shake him off, three-clawed hands reaching to scratch at him wherever he could reach. 

_Oh, right, that’s how bees make honey._ Dib was reminded after a moment, the kick having knocked that little tidbit of information loose from the cluttered attic of his mind. Dib shook his head, his hands forming into fists to keep going after Zim, his swings missing twice for every punch that connected. Zim fought back, scratching and clawing, more than once launching himself forward and attempting to go for Dib’s jugular. _Huh, funny_ , Dib thought, grabbing Zim on the second try and tossing him away, just missing the painting on the wall and falling onto the couch. _I’m supposed to be the one going for the throat._

Zim was forced to retreat into the kitchen, and Dib followed, shrugging off his shredded coat and dumping it on the floor as he went. Zim tried to climb up onto one of the kitchen counters with his pak legs, but before he could fully extend them, Dib pounced and reached for him, knocking the both of them against the wood of the cabinet. Zim took the brunt of the impact but Dib’s forehead bashed against it too, and they both sat still on the floor for a moment, hands pressed to their heads, groaning in pain. Zim recovered first, and balled his little claws into a fist and struck Dib across the jaw again, and Dib could have sworn that he could have felt his teeth being knocked loose. Dib snarled and reached for Zim’s wrist before he could strike again, pinning it back against the cabinet. Zim struggled against his grip, squirming upwards, seeking freedom. 

And then Dib could _smell_ the honey underneath his skin, could smell the light fragrance of _sugar_ and _sweet_ and then his fangs were sliding down, elongating until they poked at the insides of his cheeks and he opened his mouth to keep from stabbing himself again and he leaned forward, trying to chase that slight scent and _then-_

Before he could stop himself, his mouth was opening wide and he was pulling himself even closer to Zim, the smallest puff of air, the lightest scent on his tongue before his mouth closed around the pale flesh of Zim’s neck and suddenly that taste was _everything,_ blooming on his tongue in a way that made stars flash in his vision, his eyes rolling back before sliding closed, his hands tightening on Zim’s shoulders, his grip tensing and relaxing. He crowded closer to Zim, trying like hell to get more and more and _more_ of that taste, shuddering when he finally had the wherewithal to swallow the saliva and blood that was collecting in his mouth, and again when he finally learned to suck, to draw the sweet, slick liquid up past his lips.

Zim was so warm, his blood was so _warm_ , it seemed to pool inside Dib and set a fire to him from the inside out. 

He’d never drank from a person before.

_Zim’s_ _not a person,_ He thought, when he had half a brain to think with in between gulps, and then promptly stopped thinking again. 

Zim wasn’t struggling, just...sitting there, his arms hanging at his sides, his chest heaving, his pak whirring quietly. Letting Dib take what he wanted. Dib tried to blink his eyes open, tried to pull back and see how Zim was doing, but the craving, the _need-need-need_ of the sugar in Zim’s veins kept him right where he was.

After a while, Zim seemed to stir. Dib was beginning to get full, suckling gentler than he had before, simply laving his tongue over the still dripping wounds. Zim weakly pushed at Dib’s shoulder, forcing Dib to gingerly move back as long, spindly legs sprouted from Zim’s pak and unceremoniously dumped him off of Zim’s lap. The pak legs hauled Zim up off the floor and across the kitchen, that sleepy haze still in his eyes. He moved like he was on autopilot - He probably was, Dib realized, eyeing his pak warily - and fetched one of his irken licking sticks from the fridge before closing the fridge door and slumping against it. 

He dipped the stick in the fine pink powder it came with and even though Dib’s stomach was certainly, stickily full, it still lurched at the smell of sweet, and Dib was pulling himself across the tile floor before he knew it. 

Zim noticed, blinking as he looked over towards Dib, some of the haze in his eyes clearing before he feebly snarled at Dib, baring his teeth before turning back, trying to hide himself against the door of the fridge. He looked...small, Dib realized, but when Zim curled up into himself and tried to hide, Dib could still see the two little oozing wounds on Zim’s neck. 

Dib shifted forward onto his knees, shuffling closer and closer, watching Zim for any movement. It wasn’t the sugar now, he wanted to make sure Zim was okay.

It’d be okay. Zim would have his sugar, his pak would heal the puncture wounds. Dib had had his fill of sweet things and the cravings would go away. It would be okay again. It had to be. 

Dib had moved close enough to Zim to reach out for him, and Zim turned just as Dib’s hand reached for his shoulder. Zim gazed at him with those big, cloudy eyes again, his licking stick still held between his lips. Zim raised a gloved claw and pulled it out, stuck it back into the pouch of sugar, his gaze on Dib, silent all the while.

“H-Hey, Zim, are you- mph!” Dib started, but was cut off when Zim shoved the licking stick into Dib’s open mouth. Dib startled, but then leaned forward, lapping at the stick, trying to get every last bit of sweet powder off of it. The cravings had taken over again, and Dib let his eyes slip closed, let his hand come up to grasp at Zim’s wrist where he held the stick up to Dib’s mouth. Dib sucked gently at it, not unlike how he’d sucked at Zim’s neck.

“Stupid, filthy Dib-worm,” Zim said finally, his voice low and tired. “I refuse to be your mate.” 

_That_ finally snapped Dib out of his sugar stupor, and he spit the stick out and let go of Zim’s wrist in surprise. “M-Mate?” He asked incredulously, watching as Zim slowly re-dipped the stick and shoved it petulantly back into his own mouth. “W-What the hell are you talking about, Zim!?”

“The bite,” Zim said simply, looking at Dib like it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “The _mating_ bite? How moronic _are_ you, filthy Dib-hyuuman?” Zim asked, his blasé look turning frustrated, his still-clearing eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“That- That wasn’t…” Dib started, his mind racing a mile a minute. “That wasn’t a- _mating_ bite, Zim, it was just a bite, I drank your…” Dib trailed off, the realization hitting him full force. Dib had drank Zim’s blood, Zim had thought it was a mating bite. No matter how you looked at it, they were connected now...but hadn’t they always been…?

“Yes, yes, you drank the blood of Zim. It is inconsequential. Mating bites are usually...messy.” Zim supplied oh-so helpfully, waving a hand as though to dismiss the topic entirely. But Dib wouldn’t let this go, not until he got to the bottom of this. 

“I thought Irkens were solitary,” He tried, schooching forward so he’d be back in Zim’s line of sight, insistent on getting answers. “So self-sufficient that you can conquer planets all on your own.”

Zim seemed to preen and primp a little, clearly enjoying what he recognized as praise. “Yes, I am glad to hear that you’ve finally learned to recognize your future masters as the superior race, Dib-smell-”

“I didn’t mean that and you know it-”

“ _But-_ ” Zim interrupted, taking the stick out of his mouth and pointing it towards Dib, “We... _used_ to do such things as...mate. And the way to claim a mate was to bite them, mark them.” Zim explained, his eyes shifting to the side midway through his explanation, a faint pink blush rising on his cheeks. He lowered his hands to his lap as he continued, and silence fell between them.

“...Oh.” Dib said, his eyes darting between Zim’s blushing face and the marks on his neck. Self-conscious, he shuffled backwards a little on his knees, giving Zim some space, only for Zim to give him an incredulous, and somewhat hurt, look. “W-Wait, no, I meant, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know-”

Zim scowled, and stuck the licking stick back into the pouch with a huff. “Obviously. Now shut up and eat. I do not wish to discuss this now. Too tired.” Zim grumbled to himself, holding out the licking stick again and offering it to Dib, who took it gratefully. This was too weird, and his head was still spinning, his mind running a mile a minute. 

After a while though, the questions bubbling to the forefront of Dib’s mind couldn’t help but tumble out, the licking stick still on his tongue. “Wait, what about your mission, and our rivalry, and-” 

“ _Enough_ .” Zim snapped, and though there wasn’t much bite to it, Dib closed his mouth again and leaned away. Zim pushed the stick back into the pouch, collecting up the last of the powder there and sticking it back in his own mouth. Zim threw the empty packet off to the side and opened his arms, reaching for Dib. His hands hung between them, and Dib simply stared, and he wanted, _wanted_ to go, but part of him made him stay right where he was, suspended just as Zim’s questing fingers. 

“Zim…” Dib started, and trailed off, his eyes searching Zim’s face for any sign of deceit or trickery, and found only tired eyes and a weary, questioning expression. “We can talk about this later, right?” 

Zim nodded. His fingers flexed again, reaching for the fabric of Dib’s shirt, pointed claws just brushing the worn cotton.

Dib went willingly, his hands coming up to cradle Zim’s arms, and his lips found Zim’s, just as Zim’s teeth clicked together in surprise and snapped the last of the licking stick into crumbling pieces. Dib leaned back, and Zim sighed and smiled that toothy smile of his, and Dib’s heart thrilled in his chest, and he surged forward, pulling Zim close to him and nuzzling his cheek. Zim chittered back, tilted his head, and gently bit on Dib’s neck.

It was strange, it was weird, and it was just like the two of them. 

Dib wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
